Nevermore
by Victorian Bombshell
Summary: When a young teenage girl is thrown into Venice in 1479, she calls upon her knowledge of Assassin's Creed to navigate the tricky streets. Ezio and Leo eventually take part.
1. Rats and Confusion

**Honestly, I really don't like this fanfiction. At all. But if you like it, just tell me...?**

**I wrote it in a haze yesterday after coming home from school on a Monday, after completing five pages of homework and obtaining a blaring headache. Bear with me if it's not good for now.**

**It's supposed to lead eventually to me staying at Leonardo da Vinci's workshop for a while, trying to hide my identity... which is why I wrote this. A prequel. But I didn't like how it turned out. Might as well keep writing? I don't know - this doesn't work well for my confidence. XD**

**Well, you know everything. I don't own anything.**

* * *

"And what is the answer?" the teacher gingerly asked the class. No one answered.

I precautiously glanced around at my surrounding classmates. Half of their eyes were closed, while the other half held blank stares on their faces. I cursed under my breath and defiantly raised my hand.

"Two would be the value for x, and negative 5 would be y," I let out in one breath. Man, I hated doing that. Once the other kids heard another strong voice instead of their own droning teacher's, they all were snapped from their trance. And all eyes were on me.

I wasn't the… most social kid you'd ever know. In fact, I had few friends. But the friends I did have made up for the ones I lacked. Only with them and my twin sister was I ever truly me.

Yeah – I've got a twin sister. But she is my world. I don't know how I'd live without her. My rock, my best friend, my role model, although a bit grumpy at times… It amazed me how much we get along, considering we're polar opposites.

The bell came over the loudspeaker, accompanied by its annoying buzz every fifty minutes. Thankfully, this was the last one of the day. It was time to go home. I nimbly leapt out of the squeaky metal chair and rushed to the door, my message-bag style purse banging against my side with each over-jubilant step.

The trip home seemed to go in a daze, considering I slept on the bus. My sister sat next to me, reading her newfound book series she had managed to whiz through in a day, no breaths taken. I enjoyed the nirvana of the bus's chatter and bumpy rhythm and soon drifted off, only to be woken by my sister telling me that we were home.

As always, I hurriedly grabbed my backpack and ran off the bus after my twin. She opened the door for me and watched as I removed my coat and plopped onto my bed.

"Tired?" she asked. I simply grunted in response.

"Well, I'll be back to check on you once I'm finished with homework. Only rest for a few minutes, okay?" Somehow I knew it'd be more than a few minutes.

The heat and darkness soon enticed me into a deep slumber, which was paradise for me. I hadn't gotten enough sleep the night before, because my father was redecorating the house. Imagine hearing a hammer hit a wall until early in the morning and waking up a few hours later. You'd be tired too.

Man, sleeping was like heaven.

* * *

When I woke, I immediately looked for my alarm clock. I didn't find one. Instead I found a large wooden crate and sickly-looking rats running around in it.  
I screamed.

The beasts wriggled around and scratched at the sides of their captivity. Who had replaced my alarm clock with a crate of rats?

My arms subconsciously searched for my body pillow to shield myself from whatever dangers I could face from the crate, but all my hands felt were rough and jagged cobblestones.

Wait, cobblestones? I glanced around.

I seemed to be lying down in an alley, of all places. Sunlight was shielded from the stone ground, forcing the narrow passageway to become chilled and damp.

After further inspection, I realized that this must be a store's storage area. But the shop owner must be crazy if he keeps his supplies outside where anyone could snatch them up. And if this guy was crazy, I didn't want to stick around and be caught snooping in his stuff.

I used the palms of my hands to push myself from the ground and trotted to the nearest street. With relief, I could hear the chattering and laughing of people, who could possibly even help me. Sunlight hit me in the face, and when my eyes adjusted I wasn't prepared for what I saw.

Women and men in strange outfits roamed around the street, some stopping at small shops built in the sides of buildings, others merely heading in and out of buildings or sitting on marble benches. A sudden chill ran down my spine. Where was I …? My heart began to race deep inside my chest, signaling the sudden surge of panic I felt.

There were so many questions! Bust first of all, I wanted to know where I was… or maybe even when, based on the clothes of these people.

As soon as I stepped into the street, people began to stare. My face shone beet red as I made my way through the crowd.

Self-consciously, I glanced down. A light blue baggy t-shirt and a pair of dark skinny jeans was pretty much all I had on. I was wearing anything a normal American teen would choose to wear. So why were these people looking at me like I was a freak? Hadn't they ever seen an American before? My fingers absent-mindedly reached up and twisted around my deep auburn tresses hanging above my shoulders. Could it be my scandalously short hair? I didn't know, but all I knew was I wanted to blend in as soon as possible.

Gathering all the courage I could muster, I quickly headed over to a woman on a seat of marble. She looked reliable enough.

"Uh, ma'am, could you tell me what city I'm in?"

She gazed at me with a puzzled stare. "Venice, where else?"

My eyes widened in shock. I had to know more. "And… what year is this?"

The old woman seemed bewildered up to this point. "A-are you crazy, young man?"

Did she just call me young _man_? I was too shaken with mysteriously coming to Italy to say anything. She must have seen my overwhelmed look, as she answered my original question anyway. "It's Our Lord's year of Fourteen Hundred and Seventy-Nine."

That hit me like a kick to the abdomen. 1479? _How_ was this even possible? My mind reeled. Wasn't this in the time period of that game, Assassin's Creed II, which I just had gotten?

I willed my mind to calm down and assured myself that I knew what I was doing, for I had played the game and studied it multiple times in school. I was a master at this time period.

Trying not to seem too afraid like a rabbit on the run, I turned to my elder and asked her one last question.

"Thank you, ma'am. I have one last question. I haven't been in this city before, and I was wondering where I could purchase some… appropriate clothes?" My voice tipped up at the end of my sentence, morphing it into an odd sentence. She seemed oddly pleased at my request, however. She smiled and pointed to a small stall across the busy traffic way that had a sign over it, in a language I wasn't familiar with. Much to my relief, I spotted plain white fabric flapping from the stall. Ah, good – a tailor shop.

I nodded my thanks and began to head over to my destination.

As I headed over to the tailor shop, I found myself wondering, do I really resemble a boy? Maybe it was just because of my hair. Well, it didn't matter. It'd be extremely helpful for the plan I found myself scheming in my head.


	2. Strange Surroundings

**Hello! Thank you so much for checking out this story. **

**It's kind of a way for me to get back in the groove of writing again, so it'll take a while for me to truly get comfortable and relaxed. **

**Reviews are the only way how I know what you think of it, so please leave one! **

**I don't own Assassin's Creed or Leonardo da Vinci. But I wish. **

* * *

The old and weathered cobblestone roads had the fresh and calming stench of hay, I noticed, as my barefoot toes inched their way along them.

My newly purchased shoes hung from their leather laces, swinging like an open-mouthed hangman with each step. These leather boots were terribly uncomfortable, for they rubbed vigorously at the soles and heels of my tender feet.

I believe I already had stinging blisters from the discomfort, but I wasn't entirely sure. The ice-cold puddles I stepped in thankfully numbed my feet, saving me from the pain. I sighed in relief, but my newfound comfort was disrupted by a terrifying sound coming from right behind me.

The chilled numbness from my feet slowly but surely seemed to transfer up my back, and made sure to tenderly scramble down my shoulder blades.

More out of curiosity than fear, I cautiously stepped around. A few paces away lay a young man, his body disgruntled and bloody. My hands flew up to my open mouth. I was frozen, until a few seconds later; a woman pushed me away to get a good look at what had happened.

What had caused him to suddenly die like that? What had I heard?

No, I wasn't entirely sure what I heard. A scream, bones cracking? The slosh of blood over worn stone? The more dominant sound of a horse's hooves clomping had overmasked it. I was glad; I didn't want to hear whatever had happened.

Although the noise was masked, the image wasn't. The man would later prove to reappear in my dreams, his death often occurring in a multitude of ways.

What was wrong with this city? I wondered as I briskly stepped away from the small pool of blood trailing from the man. I knew older times such as these were a bit more… relaxed on laws concerning citizens. But this was the _Renaissance_, and I had expected wondrous manners and chivalry. Not… this.

My gaze traveled over to an unfamiliar face in the forever plenty puddles of Venice. There, gazing at me was a young person who wore his short and hacked brunette locks fastened into a tiny ponytail with a green strip of cloth. His face leaned on the delicate side, for he had a pixie-like upturned nose and a coy but knowing smile. I reached up to brush the hair from my eyes, and the reflection mirrored my movements. I looked passable enough.

I tried my hardest to disguise myself, in general my gender, and I was silently praying that no one saw through my web of lies. However, no one apparently did. I got no stares, not even any recognition – a relief on my part.

In order for my intricate plan to work, this _had _to go right. I couldn't be an apprentice if I looked like a woman, could I? The only options for women in the 15th century for jobs were courtesans, nuns, or quite possibly seamstresses. And heaven forbid I wasn't open to any of those options.

So, I planned to go to the only person in Venice who I actually knew of. Leonardo da Vinci.

* * *

With each minute, the world surrounding me became darker. Night was falling, and I was still wandering around this blasted city. I had to get shelter quickly, or trouble might arise.

I trotted over to one of the shops with the unidentifiable signs, gazing warily at the man leaning over the counter and cooing offers to people passing by. He looked sneaky and secretive, which set me at a state of unease. I would have to be careful with this man.

"Um, excuse me, sir?" my girlish voice piped up. With alarm I coughed and asked again, only in a slightly deeper voice. His head whipped around to meet my eyes, and he grinned a Cheshire cat grin.

"Hello, how can I help you?" he asked.

"I was wondering if you know where the artist Leonardo da Vinci's workshop is," I replied, crossing all my fingers behind my back.

"Oh, the new artist?" I nodded. "He lives just around the corner; you can't miss it."

"Thank you, sir," I chimed before walking away. I wasn't entirely sure that his claims would be right, but it was my only lead thus far. Might as well try. If all else failed, I could ask whoever lived in the house I would be intruding on.

The leather shoelaces had begun to grow slippery in my grasp, and I wasn't sure how much longer I could manage. Wiping my delicate palms on my new trousers, I grabbed a better hold of them and swung vigorously. The swinging brought forth a rather pleasant breeze to my aching palms.

In just a few short strides, I had arrived at the small workshop the sly man had told me of. Was this truly the workshop of the famous Leonardo da Vinci? I quivered with excitement just thinking about it. However, if it wasn't I had a pair of heavy-duty boots in my right hand, perfect for a make-shift weapon.

I took a minute or two to gather my composure before knocking on the intricately carved wooden door. After calming my nerves, I finally knocked.

_Rat-a-tat-tat._

My knock seemed to penetrate into the wood, but I soon knew it hadn't, for I heard scrambling around inside. Finally, the door began to cautiously open, and I instinctively held my breath.

Out stepped a young man, in his mid to late twenties. His blond hair and blue eyes were characteristics unlike any I had seen so far in Venice.

The corners of my mouth slightly upturned at the sight of him.

He seemed kind, and I was sure he'd be delighted to take me on as an apprentice. My confidence rose significantly. The man pursed his lips and tilted his head curiously, as if getting ready to ask a complicated question.

"Can I help you with anything, signore?" he inquired.

I bristled at him calling me 'sir', but then remembered my disguise and hid my feelings. This was what I wanted him to think, I reminded myself.

"Yes, sir. Are you…?" I stuttered, my heart thumping. This was my chance – I had to take control of it.

"Are you Signore Leonardo da Vinci…?" I asked, rapid heartbeat receding.

He curtly nodded, and grinned. Inwardly, I squealed at my good fortune. I hoped I wasn't pushing my already bountiful luck.

"Do you happen to be taking any um, apprenticeships at the moment?"

_Please say yes, please say yes. _This was the only way I'd be able to truly survive in Venice. I knew nothing much else about it. With another's guidance, I could get by. I needed this.

His crystal eyes met my apprehensive green ones. "You'd like to become an artist?" he sincerely replied. I silently nodded.

I had drawing skill, but not like my prodigy sister. I could draw quite well, however.

His questioning lips broke into yet another charming smile. "Welcome aboard," he said.

* * *

Leonardo's blazing fireplace brought forth comfort to my aching body.

I sat next to the flames, drowsily chatting with my new teacher. The luxurious warmth was making me fall in and out of dreamland every few minutes, creating wonderful thoughts of home.

"I don't think I ever caught your name, young man. What is it, if you don't mind me asking?" Leonardo asked curiously, taking note of my exhausted exterior.

Oh no. I hadn't thought of a name. I couldn't use my name – it was too much of a woman's name. A memory of my best friend in second grade came flooding back to me. He was born in Italy and moved back at the end of the school year. I bid silent thanks to him, and used his name. I always thought it was pretty.

"Renzo," I told him. A pang of guilt for lying stung me in the gut.

Leonardo seemed not to notice my conflicted emotion, and heartily told me to go get some sleep.

"I have a guest bedroom that you can stay in. Make yourself at home." He led me to the small room near the front of the house and opened the door for me. Inside, it was beautiful. The window that traced the front wall had a lattice in it, wrapped with beautiful ivy vines. To my right was a rather large dresser, for what I assumed was for storage. The bed looked the most inviting, fluffy pillows laying near its headboard and a beautiful, warm-looking blanket laying on its surface. It looked like heaven right now.

"Alright, Renzo. Night clothes are in that dresser there – help yourself. Get some sleep and we'll talk more in the morning. Okay?" Leonardo advised. I nodded in response and bid him good night, watching him close the door behind him.

I shuffled over to the ornate dresser, tugging on the handles until I found a drawer of simple white linens that seemed to be pajamas. I sighed, pulling off my tunic in one swift movement. Wrappings lined my torso to hide my bust, not that I really needed it. I decided to keep it on at night, just in case. I raised my arms and slipped the basic loose shirt over my head, giggling as static plastered my brunette hair to my forehead. After exchanging my trousers for comfortable loose pants, I removed the delicate ribbon holding my ponytail and looked into the mirror.

Here it was, bedtime. I felt so lonely without my family, my sister, my time period. All day I had been pondering on how I had gotten here. There were no plausible answers. Did Julia miss me? Of course she did. But what if she didn't even know I was gone? Thoughts of home broke down my usually rock-solid emotions, and tears began to flow.

I felt so _weak_, crying like a baby. But I just couldn't will myself to stop. Quivering and trying to control my tears, I flopped onto the small bed and tried to distract myself with thoughts of city life in Venice. It didn't work.

Before I knew it, I had succumbed into the darkness and comfort of the bed as silent sobs lulled me to sleep.


End file.
